


a day in the life of a pathfinder

by annadavidson



Series: let us duel the stars (a mass effect dual au) [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dual AU, Gen, Mass Effect AU, Mass Effect Dual AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: Julian was awake long before anyone else on the Tempest.Prompt: Routine.





	a day in the life of a pathfinder

Julian was awake long before anyone else on the Tempest. He usually didn’t get much sleep – it wasn’t his choice, but it did allow him to get more done than others. A few times SAM had offered to help him get more sleep, but he continued to turn the offer down. Insomnia wasn’t new to him, though the idea that SAM could help with that was. He didn’t particularly like having insomnia, but it did allow him to get a lot done.

Mostly he read. SAM, being an AI, never had to sleep. He read through every codex entry they had logged, sometimes having discussions with SAM about the information. He liked discussing things intellectually. Discussions that involved emotions were… hard for him. He had trouble expressing his emotions and reading the emotions of others. Facts were easier to understand and process than emotions.

He did often read up on emotions, how they were often displayed, and the tones that usually go hand in hand with them, in an attempt to get better – to better the conversations he had with his crewmates and squadmates. He didn’t know what they thought when they talked to him. He didn’t know if they thought he was cold and distant, but it wouldn’t be the first time those words were used to describe him.

Sometimes when there was nothing new to read, he would listen to music or watch a movie by himself. Music calmed him, soothed him. Sometimes it lulled him to sleep but that wasn’t often. Despite often already being awake, he had requested an alarm of sorts from SAM. It was rare for him to lose track of time, but not impossible.

A routine for him was necessary. It comforted him, and it made him uncomfortable anytime that routine was interrupted. Becoming Pathfinder didn’t help him keep his routine, instead it threw obstacles that he would trip over. Thankfully his sister, Gabby, was usually there to catch him – as he attempted to catch her anytime she tripped or fell. He wasn’t as good at catching as she was, but he liked to think he still didn’t let her fall.

Once the alarm went off, the first thing he did was take a shower, get dressed, brush his teeth – the usual things he thought everyone did. Occasionally he would pause briefly when a question popped into his head – _did Angara have to bathe?_ – but he would just store the question away and give it more thought later.

Then came looking over his room. He liked to be organized, to know where everything was at all time. He checked his room twice to see if anything was out of order. The second time was to make sure he hadn’t missed any detail, though he rarely missed something. He then turned to make his bed because he liked the way it looked when it was made. Smooth, neat, perfect. He may not be able to control Andromeda, but he could control the way his bed looked.

Next he left his room to get food. He used to like to read or listen to music while he ate, but now he usually ran into someone who wanted to talk. Sometimes people were still in their pajamas, sometimes they were dressed casually like him. Mostly he ran into Liam, who liked sitting down with him while Julian ate cereal. Gabby always ate with him, if she wasn’t eating in her room. He liked to think if Scott and Sara were awake, they’d be eating with him and Gabby too. He liked having family meals. It was comforting, a sense of safety, familiarity.

The rest of the day was spent rereading mission reports to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, interacting with his squadmates and crewmates – especially Gil and Jaal. He didn’t think he was picking favorites, but he _really_ liked talking to those two and occasionally throwing in some awkward flirting on his part. And of course any mission he and Gabby had to go on, as Pathfinders. After all paths wouldn’t find themselves. He’d said that once and remembered Liam had laughed.

There wasn’t much of a routine for lunch. He ate whenever he had the time, usually a few quick snacks here and there to keep him going. He often tried to eat dinner with Gabby and whoever else wanted to join them, perhaps clinging to that sense of familiarity, of safety that being around his sister gave him. Andromeda, after all, was many things, but he wouldn’t use _safe_ to describe it.

He took another shower before bed, brushed his teeth, and got in bed though he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep. He slept in his boxers, finding it easier putting just those on after a shower than a whole set of pajamas. It wasn’t long before he sat up and tried to think of something to keep him busy while everyone else slept. His eyes swept over his room and the items he’d taken with him to make their new home feel, well, feel like _home._ Not everything in the room was his. Some of the items belonged to Scott, others belonged to Sara. He’d wanted to make sure his siblings’ belongings stayed intact; keeping them in his room had seemed like the best way to accomplish that.

Whenever he looked at one of the items, such as Scott’s guitar, he told himself that one day his siblings would wake up, and he would return what was theirs to them. He told himself one day Scott would pick up that guitar and ask him to grab his ukulele so they could play together like they used to. Julian’s gaze drifted to the ukulele which he had propped against a bookshelf. It was a smooth black color with clumsy, basic little yellow stars Sara had painted on it when they’d been kids. Like Scott’s guitar, it had been a gift from his parents, though he had a feeling his mother had been the one to pick the instruments out.

He got up now and scooped the small instrument up, running his fingers over the strings. He brought it back to his bed where he sat cross-legged. It had been a while since he’d last played – over six-hundred years, if he counted those he spent in cryo. But he remembered how to play – he always remembered. As far as he was aware, he had never forgotten anything before. Once he knew it, he would always remember it. It was forever implanted in his mind.

The hard part was choosing a song to play first. Choosing between songs, he thought, felt to him like it must have felt for a parent to choose between their children. Usually one of his siblings would request a song, but two were in a coma and one was most likely asleep. So he just started strumming, random chords that memory told him would sound pretty when put together. It wasn’t part of his routine. It brought back memories of playing a song with Scott, of times when his older brother would turn to him and ask him to sing some lyrics. Those memories hurt now, but as he played the song, he told himself that one day they wouldn’t hurt. One day Scott and Sara would be awake. One day they would find a new home. And one day he would make new memories with his family, including the friends he had made on the Tempest and in places like Kadara.

He had to believe that one day when he sat down for breakfast, he’d look across the table and see all three of his siblings. One day Scott would accidentally interrupt his routine only to apologize and swear he hadn’t done it on purpose. One day Scott and Sara would be joining them for movie nights. Scott would insist on starting up a karaoke or music night just so the Tempest crew members could learn what a good singer his little brother was.

He told himself that one day his family would be together again, and things would be like they had been before they had left the Milky Way. He told himself all of that so he could keep a grasp on whatever shred of hope he could. Hope was familiar, and like his routine, anything familiar gave him a sense of comfort, a sense of safety. And lately, he needed that more than he’d ever needed it before.

**Author's Note:**

> Like/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://magicrobins.tumblr.com/post/159843256510/how-about-the-word-prompt-routine-for-something).


End file.
